Care
by Dawn96
Summary: They think their older brothers are annoying, completely backwards, unapproachable or just insufferable. If only they remembered that it was those brothers that shielded and protected them when they were young and vulnerable. One-shots between different brothers/mentors.
1. America and England

**Care**

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**Chapter 1: England and America  
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"Idiot," he hissed, "damned idiot."

America dug his hands into his pockets and scuffed at the snow beneath his boot.

"Complete, fudging idiot," his breath made a thin noose of wisp around his neck. "If I had spray-paint, I'd graffiti his damn walls."

He leaned back against the random building he found himself in front of, zipping up his jacket to his neck and tightening his scarf until it choked. It was so damn cold and what had just happened back in the stupid Brit's house made everything feel colder. God, what was that guy's problem? He thought bitterly. Was complaining all that guy ever did? America was a laidback person by nature- he'd let a few things slide and a few things go unheard- but he could only bottle so much. Sometimes, things went too far.

All England did was complain- complain, complain, complain. Then, he'd criticize, insult, complain and criticize once more. He called him a barbarian when sauce stained his cheek, called him a ruffian when his collar was uneven, called him an idiot when he laughed too loud-

What was that guy's problem?!

"How the hell did I stomach him?" America felt his coat grate at his skin as he pulled it down with his hands.

Thank God for independence, America thought bitterly, or else he'd be cooped up with the whack-job nut his whole life. Either way, he stormed out the house in an uncharacteristic fit of rage… but looking back, America really didn't understand what happened. All he could hear in his head was his own voice yelling out how much of a _cripple you are_ or _you're going to be too backwards to even keep up with the world just like you couldn't hold onto your fail of an empire_. Then with a loud _hope Spain kicks your ass_ and _Irish beer rules you any day_ he slammed the door and took off to who-knows-where.

Had that been too far, America bit his lip, the Brit did look a bit surprised… hurt even. Pfft, who cares? Shrugged America, the dude deserved it for shoving a stick down his own throat. England caring for him was the biggest lie of the century, because right now, all he remembered was the shootings of the guns, the downgrading stares and the taxes squeezed out of his pores.

"_Sit up, America," England reprimanded, "don't slouch." _

_America straightened his back and pouted._

"_Don't pout, you're not a child."_

_He pursed his lips and glared._

"_Don't be rude, America."_

"_I didn't say anything!"_

"_Don't raise your voice at me," England said sternly. _

"_If I whispered you wouldn't hear what I said," America said obviously._

"_Don't act smart."_

"_Then what, am I supposed to act like an idiot?"_

"_Don't answer back!"_

"_Then what the hell am I supposed to do?! God gave me a mouth, I have to use it!"_

"_That's it," England's chair screeched as he pushed it back, "up to your room."_

"_You just don't want to see me do you?" America hissed, "you just don't want me around!"_

"_Don't make up scenarios-"_

"_You just don't want to hear my voice right? You're just being a damn-"_

"_No bad language," England glared. "another swear word and I'll wash your mouth with soap and I swear it."_

_America kept his eyes unblinking as he stared at his older brother, never batting a lid and never losing contact. He did nothing wrong and England starts criticizing him- what on earth was that?! _

"_But I didn't do anything!"_

"_I'm trying to make you a gentleman."_

"_Being a gentleman stinks!" America pushed back the table as he leapt off his chair, "I want to be a ruffian- I want to be a pirate- I want to do what I want!"_

"_If I didn't look after you, you'd be a complete barbarian!"_

"_Maybe I want to be a barbarian? Ever thought of that?" America pressed, "I want to be a savage little boy and hang off trees and swim in streams and all- you never let me do anything!" _

_England crossed his arms and fixed him with a mocking look. "I don't let you do anything?"_

"_Never!" America insisted, "it's always 'America sit up' or 'America sit down' or 'America eat your scones'- I never do anything else!"_

"_Really?" England cocked a brow, "never let you do anything? Are you sure about that?"_

"_Yes," America nodded tearfully, "never. I'm a sad little boy."_

_England bit back a smile, "If I never let you do anything, then who helped you climb the big oak in the gardens?"_

_America scuffed his feet, but his eyes remained glaring, "You."_

"_If I never let you do anything, then who helped you with your kite when you wanted to fly it on the Rumbly Hills last Sunday?"_

"_You did," the fidgeting was added to the scuffling of his feet, but he did not lose eye contact._

"_If I never let you do anything, then who took you to the stream for that swim before lunch and let you stay up to catch all the fireflies?"_

"_You did…" America's voice sounded hesitant as he started fidgeting, a small smile gripping his boyish lips on his flushed face._

"_If I never let you do anything," England's voice sounded proud and teasing, "then who let you come aboard the ship and showed you around- even at the crow's nest?"_

"_You did!" America jumped at the Englishman, wrapping his arms around England's knees and hugging him close in a fit of giggles, hiding his flushed embarrassment._

"_Oh yes I did!" England laughed, lifting up the little boy and tickling him from his stomach. "I never let you do anything, eh America? Never let you do anything?" he tickled the boy harder._

"_You- you- you-" his words were cut off by the heavy fit of laughter, "-you- let- me!"_

"_What was that?" England tickled the boy's neck, "I couldn't hear you?"_

"_You- let me- you let me- do stuff!"_

_Suddenly America felt that he was falling- his limbs free and his stomach hurting- before he landed on the softness of the pillows on a small sofa. England, his face flushed pink, stood above him with his wrinkled shirt and tousled hair. America's giggled tumbled from his mouth and he curled up like a kitten. _

"_Good," England gave him a satisfied smile. "Because if you became a ruffian, then I wouldn't think of taking you to the stream today-"_

"_HU!" America gasped excitedly._

"_Nor would I let you stay up to catch fireflies again tonight-"_

"_No way!" _

"_Nor would I let you drink hot chocolate filled with marshmallows and cream after your swim-"_

"_I love you!" America threw himself off the couch and wrapped his arms around his brother's neck excitedly. "I'm never gonna be a ruffian- I'm gonna be a gentleman little boy because gentleman's get to do stuff and I want to do stuff and you let me do the stuff I want to do!"_

_England laughed and patted the boy's hair, "just go grab your coat- don't want the sunset spoiling your fun."_

"_Yes! Yes!" America leapt to the ground and sprinted down the corridor, swerving the corners sharply and skidding on the floor. "I'm coming fireflies!"_

America lowered his eyes and glumly looked at the faded black of his boots with a sigh. Great, he thought miserably, now I feel like a complete jerk. He pulled his hands out of his pockets- the cold English weather biting at his fingers angrily- and stared at the path behind him. With a nervous bite on his lip, he made his way back to where he had stormed out from, standing by a quaint, soothing house surrounded by a thick forestry of trees and the warm, comforting smell of burnt pastries.

Knocking at the door, he waited nervously before it was opened; staring into the blank, hurt green eyes of his former brother.

"Hey dude," America tried to make his smile as carefree as he could.

"What?" England's voice was flat and unamused. "Forgot to mention something, did you? Got more to add to what you said?"

"No," America shook his head vigorously, "I didn't mean what I said-"

"Sure, sure," England waved a hand bitterly, "right, you completely didn't. I get it. Get out now."

"England, just hear me out for a sec," America said softly.

"Sorry, but I don't really want to right now," England glared, "I've got enough company inside, so get lost because you already proved your point."

"I'm sorry!"

"Sorry doesn't cut it," hissed England. "What am I supposed to do with _sorry_? You made clear your views, you told me what you really feel and that's that. It's your opinion and I can't change it. What's to say sorry for?"

"You're not making any sense-"

"Then leave me alone," England gripped his door and tried to slam it shut before America's boot intervened.

"I was out of line," America gripped the door with both hands. He knew he could push it wide open even with England behind it, but refrained, "and a gentleman doesn't swear, slouch, pout, disrespect and all that. So, I'm really sorry. I was angry and annoyed and I didn't know what I was saying… I didn't mean it, really. I just wanted to hurt you cuz I felt I was being hurt by all your yapping on my collar and cheek and… I know I sound real stupid right now but… I mean… you know… It wasn't always like this and I know because I stood behind the building and remembered… so I- I kinda had to like… you know- it's-"

"Shut up."

America's eyes snapped up to the Brit.

To his surprise, there was a small, forgiving smile on his face.

"I've got some hot chocolate if you'd like, filled with marshmallows. Get in."

America beamed as the door opened widely and he stepped into the warm interior of the Englishman's home, taking in the familiar scent that took him back centuries to that old rustic house in the country, where the Rumbly Hills were perfect for kite flying, the streams were magical for swimming and the night was filled with fireflies ready for catching.

Hanging his coat and walking to the kitchen he said, "and for the record dude, Spain's churros suck big time cuz your scones are awesome."

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**AN: No historical references (not any that I know of) just the bonds between brothers. I'm thinking of continuing this (with other characters together such as Norway and Iceland, Prussia and Germany, Hong Kong and (either/both England and China), Spain and Romano and loads more etc (there are loads now that I think about it) but I guess it depends on how popular this story is first to see if it's worth going through with! If you've got any requests, questions, comments, views, corrections etc then don't fret to tell me!  
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**Don't forget to review :)  
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	2. Norway and Iceland

**AN: I'M ALIVE! *ducks head in shame*  
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**I'm _supremely _unsure about this chapter, so I hope it turns out alright... this is the first time I've ever written on the Nordics so hopefully I didn't muck up too badly. I'm snooping around for more originality with all the other upcoming chapters (I know it's been a painfully long time but I _will_ stand with this story till the very bitter end if it's still loved!) so I might bring about Canada&America next since someone requested it or Spain&Romano or even an Asian-centered one... or AWESOME!Prussia XD  
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**Thank you for all the reviews, favorites and follows!  
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**Hurricaneclaw: **Sealand o.o I completely forgot about the little guy! *scribbles him down into The List* Thanks for the review _and_ the reminder! XD**  
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**beastie: **Bromance all the way :') Hopefully the next pairs will touch you just as strongly**  
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**Anna Whitlinger: **your review made _me_ smile :D Now that I think about it, I can use picture albums to project memories... hm...**  
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**Guest: **Canada and America- I'll try my very best and hope it turns out to your liking!**  
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**CrimsonButterfly94: **aye aye *salute* **  
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**kshima: **thank you ^.^ Continued it is!**  
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**Care**

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**Chapter 2: Norway and Iceland**

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He retched.

Putrid vomit dripped from his mouth and he felt his limbs slump, his consciousness slowly leaving him, his eyes slowly going out of focus-

There was a deafening pounding in his ears, as if his brain was swelling and bleeding from the beating he had suddenly and unexpectedly taken. His stomach lurched and he squeezed his eyes in pain from another hurl. His fingers were slackened and dead, his limbs away from his mind's control. If only he could just sleep and never wake up…

"Brother?"

Iceland's tiny voice was a strangled whisper. It brought an acidic shock through his veins- if Denmark lay even a finger on him-!

He forced his eyes open, Iceland brought a protective surge through his body, and stared at the unfocused and hazy picture of the young boy in front of him, clutching the ugly ragdoll tearfully in his little hands. He wasn't hurt. Norway let his eyes droop. He wanted to give up- he oh so wanted to just let go and slip away…

But he couldn't let his younger brother see him like this.

He tried to focus on his fingers- tried to get them to move- and with a strangled moan that made his brother tearfully sniff and cry his name, he pushed himself away from the bench he was slumped on. His body dripped backwards without his control and his back slammed against the cold stone floor, his head colliding painfully, sending fluorescent colours in the back of his eyelids.

"Brother!" Iceland forced his tearful voice to stay a whisper as he gripped the front of Norway's shirt, "Brother please- please-"

What the boy was pleading about, he had no idea, but with every word Iceland uttered did his heart wring.

"H-hurt-" his bleeding lips muttered.

"You're hurt?" he could feel Iceland's tears on his cheeks.

"N-no," he gave a strangled gasp of breath, "a-are… you hurt? D-did… Denmark-"

"I'll help you," Iceland said determinedly, "I'll carry you to your room."

Norway wanted to crack a smile, throw his head back and laugh, wishing he could see the younger boy's expression. But his lids were heavy and exhaustion held him from the core of his soul, shaking him like a dying prisoner.

"Ice…" Norway felt his chest tighten and constrict, blocking the veins in his heart, "I… want you to… do something… for me, can you?"

Why was his world spinning before his eyes? By Odin, he wanted to vomit his insides all over again. His stomach still pulsed and tensed, making bile rise up in his throat.

"Anything!" Iceland's little voice squeaked above his tears, "Brother, anything, I-"

"Go… to your room," breathed Norway, "lock the door… and don't… open it… until I tell you to."

"What…?"

Norway felt his breaths coming out in growled strokes, his lungs vibrating with every heave of tightness.

"If… you love your brother, you'll go…"

He felt Iceland's little hands grip tighter at his shirt before his little hand cupped Norway's cheek. Norway wanted nothing much but to stand up and toss his brother in the room himself, securing the door with any metallic lock he can find, but, his lack of energy and his beaten body allowed him to only whimper from fear.

"Quickly," he wheezed, "please…"

Iceland's hand left his cheek and the tiny pattering of his footsteps eased the tightness in Norway's heart. The ease was short-lived as a painful sensation of disgust raked through his body and Norway rolled, doubling over, as another wave of blood-filled nausea took him over. His hands stained with blood that was both his own and not, and puke, he shakily started to stand up ignoring the pulsing from his injured wrist and useless fingers.

He hoped he could still hold a violin.

_CRASH_

He quickened his pace, clutching onto the walls for support, trying as fast as he can to run and stop himself from falling over.

_CRASH_

A panicked scream.

Finland held Sweden onto Sweden, trying to protectively stand in front of him as well as dodge the harsh blows Denmark was manically swinging with his blood-stained fists. Megalomaniac cackles and wretched curses spilled from Denmark's mouth as fast as the fjords, and one look at the ruined Sweden showed the Denmark's stamina was in no way ending.

He grit his teeth and limped behind the raging Dane.

Thank goodness Ice was safe.

With that, he got ready to grip the man around his waist once more, locking the Dane's thrashing arms, avoiding the piercing elbow and living through the throbbing pain that raked through his body.

Thank goodness Ice was safe.

Finland tried to pull the destroyed Swede away from the scene- tried to help end the discordia that raged-

Thank goodness-

"No! Brother! No!"

A childish scream from right behind him made him want to breakdown and cry. No. Iceland couldn't be here- not when this chaos- this disorder of pain and blood-

He let go of Denmark- he spun to grab Iceland and run-

Big mistake.

He didn't know what happened but he was on the floor, coughing out splatters of blood- _his mouth throbbed-_ and the screams pounded around him. Finland was screaming ever so bloodcurdlingly that it made his skin crawl.

But Iceland- where was-

His ragdoll was on the floor and blood was splattered all over his clothes. Norway crawled to him- he didn't care about the others anymore- he didn't care if they killed each other then ripped one another to pieces-

Iceland had to be safe. He had to be. If he wasn't… he'd never forgive himself- he'd never-

"Let's go-" he panted, gripping his brother from the shoulder, "let's go."

"Brother- brother-" fear held his tongue as tears rolled down like blood from scratches. "I- I-"

He gripped Iceland's hand, ready to tear away from the scene before-

"-STAY! EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOU WILL STAY-" spitting at Sweden's bloody face, Denmark roared, "NO ONE- NOT A SINGLE ONE OF YOU CAN SURVIVE OUT THERE WITH OUT _ME- _YOU'LL ALL _STAY-_"

It felt like Iceland was helplessly flying and Norway felt his insides null.

He didn't exactly hit the boy- he wasn't even sure if he had touched him- but whatever it was, something in him flared with panic.

"_Don't touch him!"_ his voice grated against his throat. "_Don't touch him!"_

He gripped Denmark from the collar and slammed him against the wall, his eyes so wide they threatened to tear across his face. His tense fingers made his whole body rattle and for a moment, he felt like he was going to break from the terror and dread that rushed through his veins. He shook the Dane, not caring as Denmark tensed under his grip- his growl growing much more feral each second- not caring as Finland tried to pry his fingers off and pull him away- not caring as he could hear Sweden lumbering up to attack-

No one touched Iceland. No one- not a soul- no one hurt his brother- no- no one-

_"Don't you dare touch him!" _

He pressed his fingers into Denmark's throat, every instinct acting away from common sense. He felt the cool façade he usually had fall off to raw emotion that clawed at him, making him bleed.

His brother was uninjured and unhurt as Norway gave him a final check. Satisfied with the scanning, he draped Iceland's little body with thick furs, pressing them around his small feel, legs and arms, making sure he was cuddled and warm from the freezing night. Iceland's gleaming eyes were dimmed from the night's miserable events, but he kept his eyes on his brother's bruised face.

With a swollen black-eye, a split lip, an angry red bruise on his cheek and smelling of blood and vomit, Norway felt like he had endured the beating of his life. It was just arms everywhere. He was sure Finland even scratched him on the neck at some point. At least he grabbed Iceland and ran at the end of it, securing the boy in the room and washing him up with fake optimism that took every single ounce of his effort.

It hurt so much to smile when everything hurt. His mind, his thoughts, his body, his soul…

"I'm sorry, big brother," Iceland said quietly.

"No," Norway pushed the hair from the silver-haired boy's eyes. "everything's alright. It was just a silly fight. They'll all be friends tomorrow."

"You're hurt."

"I'm ok. I can't feel it," but his face felt like it was on fire, his brain throbbed with pain, his body aching with every movement. He pressed up a smile to try and convince the boy.

"I made you hurt, right?" fat tears rolled off Iceland's baby cheeks. "If I didn't run after you- I wanted to put you in my room so you w-wouldn't hurt more-"

Norway wrapped his thin, blood-crusted hand around Iceland's small shoulders and hugged the boy tight. While Iceland's body trembled with choking sobs, Norway tensed up to lock away the tears that threatened to spill from his own eyes. He had to be strong- he couldn't be like this in front of his brother.

"I'm not hurting," Norway said shakily. "Sleep, alright? Everything is fine. Don't worry."

He gently placed Iceland back on the small bed and wrapped the furs around him. Muttering a small prayer in the boy's ears, he stood up, and made for the door. He had to wash all the stains away and probably nurse the open wounds on himself (right now, he had no mood for the others). Almost halfway through the doorway, Iceland's little voice spoke up.

"Brother?"

He turned, "hm?"

"You saved me, thank you."

A miserable smile crept onto Norway's lips, "who else have I got, Ice?"

* * *

Rage bubbled in Iceland's chest, his arms crossed tightly across his thin torso with his nails digging into his sides from pure irritation. He grit his teeth, feeling it grind uncomfortably against one another that it sent shivers up his spine, and secured his glare at the blank wall up ahead.

He could hear the clinking of glass as Sweden swept the broken shards of the vase into a small dustbin and the soft footsteps of Finland coming towards him were definitely _unwelcome_ in his mind.

"Here," Finland said softly, "something to calm you down."

"I don't want it," hissed Iceland seething, his temper still bubbling.

"But it's hot chocolate," Finland kindly placed the warm mug with his flag next to his hands, yet it did not erase the worry on his features.

He gripped the mug and placed it on a knee pointedly, refusing to say anything else. He was still angry and there was no way in hell he was in the mood to say anything to anybody anymore. If there wasn't a stupid storm outside, he would've ran out, slammed the door and not come until next week when they're all out there looking for him and sending out search parties and whatnot. Probably go bunk with Hong Kong since he was in town for a few weeks…

Finland stood next to him, as though expecting something, before Denmark entered the destroyed living room with a playful smile on his annoying face. Apparently he was a cue for something since Finland immediately left the room along with Sweden (who purposely bumped into the Dane's shoulder) and Iceland was left alone.

Denmark sauntered to where the sofa was- Iceland currently sat on the arm of it- with the teasing air of 'I-know-something-you-don't-and-I'm-not-going-to-tell-just-because-I-can'. Iceland grit his teeth. He can ignore the stupid Dane.

Denmark's pressed smile widened almost bitterly.

"Cooled down, Ice?"

"Leave me alone."

"Ice, Ice, Ice," Denmark scooted closer to him, raising an arm to pat the younger boy on the shoulder.

"Don't touch me," snarled Iceland, sitting straight up with a glare.

Denmark blinked, as if some idea just dawned in his head, before he leant back with a slight seriousness.

"Ice, I just want-"

"Get to the point," Iceland crossed his arms- careful not to spill hot chocolate on himself in the process.

"You want me to _really_ get to the point?" Denmark asked, as if Iceland needed to reconsider his words.

"_Yes_," Iceland rolled his eyes with annoyance.

"Fine," Denmark shrugged. "Go apologize to Norge."

"_Shut up!" _Iceland's voice rose volumes, "why do I have to-"

"You asked me to get to the point as clearly and as concisely as I can," Denmark said, holding up his hands in innocence.

"I'm _not_ apologizing," hissed Iceland. "There's no way in hell I'm going to apologize because it's not my damn fault it's _his_!"

"Ice-"

"I'm not anyone's responsibility and I'm not owned by anyone- I'm not going to do anything that I don't want to! I'm always blamed because I'm the youngest and no one ever respects what I have to say!"

"If you want me to listen then I'll listen to you," Denmark crossed his legs casually.

"No you won't! You'll just take _his_ side anyway-"

"Ice, he's your older brother and I know he gets a bit protective-"

"See, that's the problem!" Iceland hissed. "You think I _want_ an older brother? _He's_ the last person I ever want to be related to! He's a bloody freak and I wish-"

"Did you tell him that?" Denmark sharply cut through.

"I just- what?"

"Did you tell him that? That rubbish on not wanting him to be your brother-"

"Why do you care?" Iceland spat.

But that was already an admission of guilt to Denmark.

"I hope you remember that you weren't as independent as you are now," Denmark said in a creepy, calm voice, his eyebrows slightly raised. Apparently what he had said struck a small nerve.

Iceland, his mind filled with retorts from rage, felt his mind blank.

Denmark heaved a great breath and for once, it wasn't excessively dramatic. The serious expression on the Dane's face made Iceland feel unsettled, a heaviness clenching his heart making him feel as though he had done something very wrong. But he hadn't. He just said the truth. He said how he felt. There was nothing wrong with that.

"I'm sure you feel like you can walk on without a care in the world since you're nice and independent, old enough to take care of yourself and you've got some nice friends in nice places," Denmark continued in that calm voice, "am I right?"

"I always took care- just what are you talking about?" frustration bit at his tongue.

"Norge sacrificed a lot for you," said Denmark, "got hurt a lot for you… bled a lot of _you_."

Iceland swallowed.

"Back then you were a little kid who couldn't even stay warm in the winter, and let me tell you, if it was any other person who found you stuck under the snow in some volcanic piece of land… they wouldn't even look at you."

Denmark stood and placed a large hand around Iceland's shoulders.

"Plague, famine, blizzards, _eruptions…_ who was always there for you when not a single person was?"

"He abandoned me for centuries-" Iceland began hotly.

"Let's throw politics out of the door for a second," Denmark cut him through, "as a _human_, who was there for you through and through?"

Iceland kept his lips locked in a firm scowl. Denmark scanned his face for a good few seconds, waiting for an answer, but Iceland stubbornly gave none.

"Brothers fight, I understand," Denmark nodded, "but the luckiest thing that happened to you was Norge, do you get me? Don't go wishing otherwise. Come on Ice, do you honestly hate-"

"I don't _hate _him!" Iceland felt his eyes prick. Stupid hormones. "I know he helped me out a lot but I was little and who cares what he did then-

"Oh ho, if he just cared for you when you were nice and prosperous and old enough without a headache, it means he didn't love you at all!" laughed Denmark. "Where it counts is when you were young, helpless and good-for-nothing! Look kid, I hate all the sentimental thing going on around here, but… you gotta stop being a jerk and… _mature-"_

"I _am _mature-!"

"You're a damn volcano you know that?!" yelled Denmark, "calm down a bit, will you? What I meant to say is that… he always put you before himself. Think about it, okay?"

Iceland gave an unamused growl and curtly turned his head away.

"Lord you teenagers are impossible," Denmark shook his head good-naturedly before standing up and stretching. "I did all I could… but Ice," Denmark said before he stepped out of the living room, "Think about it, yeah? And… remember the amount of times he took a beating for you. We Vikings are good at beatings, aren't we?"

Iceland threw a sharp glare at the Dane's retreating back before slumping back onto the sofa, the mug useless in his hands.

_Norge sacrificed a lot of you_.

Iceland bit at his lip.

_There for you through and through_.

Something acidic was eating at his chest.

_You were a little kid who couldn't even stay warm in the winter._

The tinge of bile rising up his throat made him remember that night- that night that was so like many other ones- where he felt like as useless and as weak as possible, standing in a small corner as tears dripped down his face, while Norway shielded him.

Denmark, Sweden and even Finland… they all seem nice and calm and happy, but they caused him grief back when he was a child. All of them except Norway. Norway who cared for him when the others scorned, who held him close in the wildest of winters, who played with him with him when he was alone, who told him stories and tales of all the gods…

_"Don't touch him!" _ he would scream while his own blood ran from his scars.

He felt like a stupid jerk right now.

He cast a glance around the wrecked living room and stood up with a heaviness in his chest. With his mug protectively by his chest, he slowly made his way to Norway's room, knocking on the dark wooden door and resting his forehead on the plane as he waited.

Nothing.

Perhaps Norway leapt out the window with his fake fairy friends that he always talked about? Or he was too angry that he didn't want to look at Iceland's face? The thought itself brought dread to the pit of his stomach.

"Hey, Norway-"

He opened the door and peered in, looking around the dark room for any sign of his older brother.

It was empty.

Iceland raced to the open window with his heart pounding, peering out of it for any sign of a runaway Norway-

"What are you doing?"

The flat voice made him jump and spin, finding blank eyes staring straight at him by the doorway.

"I- I thought you jumped out and-" Iceland immediately shut his mouth. Damn Hong Kong and his stupid dramas.

"Thank you for your concern," Norway said crisply and coldly before pushing open the door as a sign for Iceland to walk out.

Iceland stood for a few minutes, staring at Norway and the door as though they were both egging him for something. He felt the proud tenseness of his shoulders fall and his neck hunch.

"Are you mad at me?"

He wanted to slap himself. If that didn't sound childish then he didn't know what did.

"No."

"Stop lying."

"I don't lie," Norway's cold voice made his skin scrawl.

"Then… are you annoyed with me?"

Norway gazed at him calculatingly, "give me a few minutes and I'll be fine. I got used to centuries of being used, this isn't any different."

That stung. That casual sentence was like a hard, heavy punch to his stomach. That _really _stung.

"I didn't use you," his own voice sounded dead to his ears. "I just-"

"Don't want me as a brother," Norway shrugged, "I get it."

"No- look, I… I didn't mean what I said-"

"You meant it, Iceland," Norway's hooded eyes seemed haunted. "I know you did. And so do you."

Iceland felt his voice die in his throat. No, he wanted to defend himself in the same vehemence he had blamed his brother with earlier, but for some reason, all he felt inside was a dullness that was as feeble as the flapping of an injured bird.

"I- I don't hate you or anything…" his words died from his mouth. "It's just…" why couldn't he say anything? Estranged for years and years does sever a bond, no matter how tight it once was. "You weren't there for me when I was younger-"

"I wasn't there?" Norway's expression made him flinch. "What? You think I was having the time of my life being pushed around between Denmark and Sweden like a trophy? You think I had fun in Sweden's house? You think I enjoyed it when Germany stepped all over me like a rug?"

"I suffered with Denmark-"

"I suffered with all of them!" Norway's voice towered over his with expression Iceland thought he'd never hear. "Not only with Denmark, not only with Sweden- imagine the whole of Europe convincing you to stay in submission, not wanting your independence. I know you it was hell at Denmark's house, but don't think I was at peace when we were apart."

Iceland gritted his teeth. Norway turned away, his voice breaking at the end, and Iceland felt like running away or melting on the spot. For Norway to lose control was considered a mental breakdown and Iceland, being the awkward teenager that he was, hated it when he was confronted with emotions. Looking at the frame of his brother's back, shadowed by the darkness from the night, he realized how unbelievably _small_ and _slim_ Norway looked.

So breakable.

He cast a look at his own frame in the nearby mirror and saw that his almost mirrored the Norwegian, from the thin bones to the lithe form. Standing here, feeling his heart pumping from the adrenaline of the earlier argument and the unease, Iceland wondered how it must've felt for Norway- who must've been his age back then- when all the others were out for each other's blood.

If Denmark and Sweden clashed, Iceland would be the first to run out the house. Back then… Norway had the small burden of looking after Iceland as well.

Iceland took a step forward and placed his thin hand on Norway's shoulder, his eyes downcast. They were almost the same height now…

His pride was too strong and his stubbornness to heavy.

Then he remembered that small, miserable smile by the dark doorway, back when times were harsh and days were painted with suffocating agony, "_who else have I got, Ice?"_

He extended his arm across Norway's shoulders and pulled him into a sharp, strong embrace. The Norwegian tensed, caught off-guard and unsuspecting, before he gripped his brother equally as strongly. Iceland could hear the sounds of the blizzards, the ruffle of the soft fur blankets and the fresh scent of the fjords radiating off the nation, and he knew, by the small tugging of his heart, that it was home.

This misunderstanding- the fact that they were so different now and yet so the same- this inability to communicate… he wanted it to fade. He really did. But… it'd take time, and slow steps and a lot of patience.

When he came back to his senses, they sharply parted, each looking in different directions, acting as though nothing had happened. A small smile gripped Iceland's lips and he felt a burst of happiness in his heart that he didn't before. As the pink blush faded from Norway's pale face, he turned to retrieve his own cold mug of hot chocolate from the desk before stopping in front of the mirror.

"We look ridiculous, I know," Iceland stated.

With hair that was pulled at, torn shirts, bruised eyes, split lips and swelling cheeks, the only thing that wasn't evidence that the biggest brotherly feud had just taken place was the small, secret smiles and the twinkle of understanding in each other's eyes.

Sometimes, it takes a little time for everything to get together again.

Just because everything's changed doesn't mean it wasn't there before.


End file.
